Unfettered
by Literary Portals
Summary: Fred's funeral went like this, and life continued from there. [Working title, tentative one-shot].


Fred's funeral went like this.

It was a dull day. The sky was flatly pale and the air was flat and the weather wasn't wet, or cold, or warm, or muggy. It wasn't anything discernible or memorable, and it was completely the opposite of what he imagined a day that would forever belong to Fred would be like.

Charlie couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

What he could decide on was that funerals were miserable and terrible, as all funerals must be, except perhaps Voldemort's, who couldn't die often enough in Charlie's opinion, and who, ironically, would never have a funeral. He'd be buried or cremated or tossed somewhere after the Ministry was done analyzing his corpse and that would be the end of that.

That would never be the end of that for Fred.

* * *

Fred's funeral went like this.

Ginny told them she would be one of the pallbearers and no one, not even Mum, argued about it. Aunt Muriel did, but only Charlie heard her, and one look at Charlie's face when she said it ensured she'd never say it again, although she would definitely say something about Charlie's brutish, uncultured manners on such a day being quite disrespectful.

Charlie minded that less.

* * *

Fred's funeral went like this.

George wouldn't go, and half an hour of pleading left Mum sobbing into Dad's shoulder and everyone else infinitely more miserable and uncomfortable. The guests arrived by portkey and Charlie, Bill, Ron, Percy, Ginny, and Dad carried Fred's casket to Ottery St. Catchpole's cemetery, which housed mostly World War I and II veterans.

(No one stayed long enough in Ottery St. Catchpole to die there except retirees and escapees from city life).

Fred's body was light. Fred himself had always been a lanky twig, but Charlie had never realized because Fred (and George) had taken up so much space with their constant command of attention.

It made him feel, finally, that Fred really was gone. Gone forever and ever and never coming back.

* * *

Fred's funeral went like this.

Harry and Hermione clung to each other, and Ron and Ginny, Mum and Dad, Bill and Fleur all held each other up. Charlie kept a hand on Percy's shoulder, who wrung his glasses and cried silently through it all, and thought: 'being single means being there for your other single brother'. Vague and horrifying amusement welled in his chest and instantly made him think of Fred snickering, and so instantly made him feel cold with the realization that Fred's stupid snicker was always going to be a memory now.

* * *

Fred's funeral went like this.

Charie realized he didn't know his little brother very well, because he met most of Fred's friends for the first time when the eulogies began.

Lee Jordan he knew, whose commentator's voice had deserted him. Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet were unknown and spoke together, quietly and shakily. Angelina Johnson had been his girlfriend, and looked shell-shocked and distant throughout her speech. Verity was their blond little shop-girl and spoke on George's behalf, which surprised every single one of them.

Then it was Dad's turn. "He was my son," he said, steadily, "And he always will be. Thank you for coming. Thank you for loving him."

Charlie heard, as though from far away, an awful choking sound, and it was only when Percy slung an arm around him and squeezed that he realized it was him.

* * *

Fred's funeral went like this.

George appeared as they were lowering Fred's coffin into the ground, and set of fireworks he had somehow hidden underneath Aunt Muriel. The old bat shrieked and toppled and the fireworks went wheeling towards the sky in enormous explosions of bright blues and greens and reds that, through some tricky spell, showed up vividly in the daylight.

Despite himself, Charlie laughed.

Despite themselves, everyone did, (except Aunt Muriel).

* * *

Fred's funeral went like this.

It snuck and wove itself into their understanding of the world and went off with a bang, just like Fred.

* * *

**A/N:** _I need to finish things before I start new things, but when faced with writer's block my mind goes 'new fic!'. Unbeta-ed. I'm trying really hard to get solid characterization and world building, so this might continue to be a chaptered fic? I might just leave well enough alone though..._


End file.
